These are troubled times, my friends. Troubled times indeed. And I’m not referring to politics, or war, or all of the other challenges and travails that surround.
I’m talking about numbers.
There is something very strange happening with numbers. Very, very strange. Increasingly, I find myself surrounded by ridiculously large numbers. Numbers that are foreign to me in their size. Numbers that make no sense.
I am assured by reliable and informed sources that significant events, events I am sure happened just one or two years ago, did in fact occur 20, 30 even 50 years in the past.
Children I have known for what seems a brief time now claim to be in their 30’s.
I am clear on the years I graduated from high school and college, but how is that they occurred decades ago?
And the strangest, most troubling number of all—the one that is absolutely unfathomable to me—is smacking me full on the face today.
- Christmas Day, 1953: I am born.
- Christmas Day, 2013: It appears I am 60.
I have done the math over and over, and still can’t find the mistake. To be fair, I’m no math wiz. When it was pointed out to me that this is the 30th anniversary of my 30th birthday, I thought they were implying I was 900.
But that doesn’t mean that there hasn’t been a colossal arithmetic error. I know it’s true. It just has to be.
Today’s Fact Cetera
The FCC approved color television just eight days before I was born. It would be many more years before it appeared in our house.